I finally poured some of the inspiration from our Hawaii vacation into a new piece of art. Using a photo my husband took of me on a different trip, I let my imagination go. This lovely mermaid finally made it to paper.
At the beginning, I was excited to create this piece. I already had the mixed media paper, a frame that would perfectly fit the finished product, and a place in mind to hang it. All I had to do was turn my vision into reality.
This is where the problems began.
Even when planning a new book, I hit strides like this. The concept is there. I have all the materials, great ideas, and the excitement to follow through. All I have to do is what I've done for every other project: create. It should be simple, but anything and everything pushes against my creative mindset.
Household tasks
Food preparation
Errands
Life obligations
Rough nights/too tired to get motivated
Lack of focus
Self-doubt - AKA fear of making that first, irreversible mark
Shifts in perspective
Outside interruptions
Background noise/chaotic household
Unexpected bumps
Some of these things are necessary for life to function well. We all need to eat and take care of ourselves, our homes, and others. But any of these types of situations can impede the creative mental state. Some people call it writer's or art block. In my case, an unexpected bump almost got me with my mermaid. I had the vision, the reference photo, and all the materials—so I believed.
Once I had the sketch ready, I went to my closet to pull out my watercolors. My vision included a lovely mixture of watercolors for the background, pens, and possibly colored pencils to blend the many colors. I wanted the piece to be soft but bright.
My watercolors weren't in my closet. Or my desk. Or on my bookshelf. Not behind my bookshelf, in my storage trunk, the other closet...
A bump like this could have frustrated me into quitting. I found my dozens of acrylic paints and even my pastels leftover from college. Though I could picture the wooden watercolor paint case in my head, all the little bottles neatly laid out inside, my paints were gone. This roadblock now threatened to derail my entire creative vision. Not only was I frustrated that I couldn't paint my mermaid, I was mad at myself for losing my watercolors.
I don't often lose things; I donate them when I feel I won't use them anymore. This is probably what happened, but not because I didn't think I would use them again. I had another black soft case of watercolor paints. It sat underneath some acrylic paint supplies on my side table.
Phew, crisis averted.
When I slid the zipper around and opened the black case, all I found were new brushes in various sizes. No paints. I sat there on the floor, staring at those brushes as if they knew a secret I didn't. At that point, I did vaguely remember thinking I had two watercolor sets, so I should probably just donate one. I donated my only set.
Yes, I could just buy another donated set during my volunteer shift at the charity thrift store, but I wanted to finish my mermaid right then. Leaving a project in an unfinished state often means I lose the inspiration to complete it for days or possibly months. Instead, I whipped out my alcohol markers and accepted the fact that my vision would look nothing like I originally planned. I even went so far to think I might mess it up and hate it.
I may need to start over, and I hate starting over.
But reaching this point of "oh well, crap happens" gave me an odd sense of peace. Even if I messed it up, I could redo it. The second iteration may be even better than the first. This is the problem solving aspect of the creative process. I wanted to fight for my mermaid piece, even if it meant she wouldn't look the way she did in my head. I got to work, slapping down pale blues and purples into the background, letting frustration and the possibility of failure fuel my strokes. Surprisingly, I didn't hate the result.
Any creative process comes with hurdles. How do we move past the "bumps" that so often come in the form of distractions, self-doubt, and necessary shifts? All I know to do is keep moving forward. That could have meant waiting to buy a new set of watercolors, buying one at retail price that same day (and wallowing in even more self-pity), or abandoning the project. I chose a different way.
In following my passion, I rediscovered my love for markers.
An author friend and I recently had a conversation about cutting scenes from our novels—how it's often an emotional process. No matter how well I plan a book, I will need to cut scenes during the editing process. Some of the scenes I believe are vital on a first draft will be moved or removed, and I have no idea which ones until I read the story as a whole. It's part of growth, both for me and the novel.
Does it hurt to slice up those beautiful scenes I once poured my heart and soul into? Of course.
But after the pain, when I read through the book on the next editing pass, the growth and progress I see give me such a boost. It's a reminder that I fought through to improve my work. I overcame whatever hurdles I needed to and created something better.
Today, I encourage all creatives to push through those barriers. If you have passion for a project, fight for it. Carve out time, even if it means putting another hobby or pastime on hold. Believe in yourself enough to begin or to change direction midway. The bumps don't have to be as major as we believe they are in that moment of panic and frustration. Shoot for progress. We can all relate to that feeling of accomplishment when a piece, a draft, a phase of a creation exists because we gave it the time it deserves.
I'll keep working my mermaid until she's worthy of that spot on the bathroom wall. Only I can bring the vision in my head to life.
Keep on smilin'!
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